Me, The JackRabbit & The time he Masturbated inside me

Before you freak out this is a latergram.

Laterblog?

Is that even a thing?

But I decided it was time to bust out the Confessions of my Night Stand and tell you about the time I had the most ridiculous sex of my life.

It was also the worst sex of my life but in an epically hilarious way.

He was so overly smiley and Ivy League looking he looked like he'd stepped out of a Republican campaign. 

When he smiled I swear his teeth caught the glint of the overhead light and there was a soft ping heard in the distance. 

He was friendly and chatty and the date seemed to be going fine enough. 

But then he got up from his chair and sat down beside me and that should have been my first warning. 

I don't do dates like that. 

Sitting side by side on one side of the bench so we can both face the bar together awkwardly like we're sitting on some homecoming court. 

No. Hell to the no-o-oh.

And then he actually made it worse. 

Keep in mind I'd only been on the date for twenty minutes but some guys like to bring their A game early. 

That's A for awkward, obviously.

I'd kind of like to kiss you, he says like he's Matthew McConaughey.

I'd kind of like to kick you in the balls, I refrain from saying. 

And instead, I smile, wondering why men EVER think it's okay to accounce such things. 

I'd kind of like to insert my penis inside you right now. 

I'd kind of like to smack dat ass right now. 

For the love of Nike just fucking DO it.

So the kiss

The kiss??

Alright, the kiss was fine. 

Whatever. 

It was a kiss. 

It was after the kiss I started to question his sexuality. 

Are you seriously holding my hand right now? this time I actually speak out loud as I looked down at his hand interlocked with mine, after our awkward Sadie Hawkins kiss, sitting side by side, staring at the entire restaurant. 

Yeah. I thought it might be nice to hold your hand so I just went for it, he speaks aloud back to me.

Okay.

I did, I did, just think men should DO that but obviously not when we're talking a same booth first date 25 minutes in hand holding situation.

I laughed lightly, mostly because I didn't know what else to do. 

I wrenched my hand back from his overly eager death grip and he teased me for thinking his behavior was strange. 

NO GIRL WANTS TO HOLD HANDS AWKWARDLY AT A TABLE WHEN SHE'S KNOWN YOU FOR LESS THAN THE TIME IT TAKES TO WATCH AN EPISODE OF DOWNTON ABBEY FOOL

Good. LORD.

He managed to somehow get the hint and moved back to his proper side of the table and I finished the date unharmed. 

Well, for some reason--

I'm gonna go with boredom?

I agreed to let him come over. 

Yeah, I don't know what I was thinking either but you know girls do dumb shit when they're drunk. 

No. 

I wasn't drunk. 

I was bored.

Remember?

So we're making out and he says, Move down the bed a bit I don't want you to hit your head. 

I don't want you.

To hit your head.

Remember this, ladies, for if a man ever says this to you, you're gonna need to fake a violent stomach bug and get the hell out of dodge. 

Hit my head? Why would I hit my he--

Powpowpowpowpowpowpowpowpowpowpowpowpowpowpowpowpowpow

I was having jack rabbit sex. 

For a moment I thought maybe I was on some hidden camera show because surely NO man actually ever had sex like that. 

I mean, it felt like he was masturbating inside me. 

I felt a giggle rising up inside me. 

It was coming--At least something was--

I was going to literally laugh in his face over the sheer absurdity of what he was doing. 

But suddenly he leaned down--Not.Slowing.Down.A.MOMENT--How you doing? You doing alright?

I bit my tongue, Mmhmm, I let my mouth smile. 

I know what you're thinking. 

Why didn't you say anything, Reese?

Because when a man is going at warp speed inside you from literally the second he's in you, there really isn't time to find the words to express your disapproval. 

You're in this mixture of shock and disbelief and confusion and amusement and you're mouth is too busy flapping from the sheer force of it all to form any coherent sentences.

And it wasn't painful or uncomfortable it was just the most ridiculous awful sex I'd ever had in my entire life. 

And in true awful sex fashion, it thankfully, didn't last long. 

I don't think I've ever come so fast, he said. 

Gee. 

Thanks.

What a flatterer.

Then I faced, firsthand, the reason I never, ever, let men come over to have sex. 

How. 

Did I get him. 

To leave??

What ensued next was an awkward--have we managed to pinpoint the theme of the night?--spooning session where I tried to get up and he wasn't quite finished yet because apparently we hadn't gone and made this date quite awkward enough. 

Then. 

Then.

He wanted to have sex again. 

It was at that moment I got up, got dressed and went into the living room. 

My living room. 

In my apartment. 

With my clothes back on. 

Because desperate times call for ridiculous measures. 

And eventually he got a clue and fled the crime scene.

And for some unholy reason he apparently thought we had a great time together cuz he's asked, on numerous occasions, to see me again. 

So.

The moral of the story is:

Sex on a first date is generally awful.

But sometimes, on extra special occasions, it can make you wish you'd crawled under the bar table to make your escape when he'd held your hand in the first place.